Kavinsky couldn't remember how he got there, but that wasn't exactly a new feeling for him. Considering the amalgam of drugs and booze constantly running through his blood, he wasn't surprised he couldn't remember anything. He ran a hand over his face before realizing there was a wet mouth running over his cock. Kavinsky looked down to see a mess of brown curls bobbing over his crotch. As far as situations where he found himself in strange places without remembering how he got there, this one was a fucking gem.
He felt himself getting close, and his hand found its way into her hair, clutching at it as she worked him over, pushing her head down. He heard her gag around him, felt the vibrations of it, and then his lips curled up into a vicious smile. When he came in her mouth, he gave her no warning and he heard no complaint. She pulled back, wiping a spot of white from the corner of her lips. She was pretty, nothing terribly special, but Kavinsky wasn't the type to appreciate beauty. He found beauty in fire and chaos, not bright eyes, plush lips or lithe bodies.
The unnamed girl began to scoot away from him, but Kavinsky grabbed her wrist and pulled her back so she was lying on the bed beneath him.
"I'm not done yet," he snarled. She smiled at him, like he was her fucking boyfriend. The look came off as incredibly desperate to please. It was almost pathetic enough to make him soft. Almost.
He pushed up her already incredibly short skirt so that it bunched around the tops of her thighs. She wasn't wearing underwear. He rolled his eyes at her. She was making this way too easy for him.
He was inside her in an instant, her thighs spread wide, her moans too loud, her face too expressive. Kavinsky clutched at the headboard, bracing himself so that he could slam into her harder and harder with every thrust. When she started calling out his name, he'd had enough.
"Shut the fuck up." He clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her, and kept driving himself into her, flesh slapping against flesh. Her breasts bounced right out of her overly tight v-neck and she arched her back so they were practically in his face. He brought his mouth down to meet them, sucking hard along the edge of her lacy bra. He bit down, hard, before pulling away, leaving the skin puckered and purple.
A movement out of the corner of his eye forced his attention away from the body writhing beneath him. Kavinsky barely had time to register the shaved head and black tank top before he felt himself harden considerably. He nearly blew up right then and there.
"Wanna join, Lynch?" He didn't know what he expected. A sputtered response? A bitter "fuck you"? Instead he got silence.
He allowed his gaze to wander over to the door. His eyes locked with Ronan's and he nearly came right there. He realized he liked being watched, no, he liked being watched by those particular dark eyes. The silver cross glinted around Ronan's throat. He imagined what it would be like to suck on the skin around the cross. Kavinsky licked his lips in anticipation and chuckled to himself. He continued to fuck the girl lying beneath him, never breaking his staring match with Lynch.
Watching Ronan watch him brought a new level kinkiness to the situation. He couldn't believe how horny he was, how hard he was, how not enough this girl's pussy was.
Ronan's brought a bottle of liquor to his lips, downing the contents. Kavinsky wondered how those lips would feel around his cock. Ronan drew the bottle away from his mouth and smirked, as if he had heard Kavinsky's thoughts.
"Nah, I think you're doing just fine." Ronan's words dripped with contempt and mockery. He turned to leave.
Kavinsky slipped himself out of what's-her-name and tucked himself back into his jeans.
"Kiss him." He waved the order in Ronan's direction, and the girl nodded in compliance. By the doorway, Ronan froze. The girl sauntered over and touched his shoulder, and Kavinsky watched the muscles in his back tense, distorting the patches of tattoo visible around the edges of his shirt. He expected Ronan to push the girl away, to sneer, hurl insults, pretty much anything except for what actually happened. Because when the girl's hand slipped up behind his neck and pulled his head down to meet hers, he kissed her back.
Kavinsky felt a swell of jealousy rage in the pit of his stomach. He watched their lips lock. He watched Ronan's hands snake around her waist, pushing her top up. He watched him push her back against the doorframe. He watched her hand slip down to his waist. Her fingers unbuttoning his pants…
Ronan pulled back, breathless, laughing.
"What's so funny, Lynch?"
"You're a fucking nutcase."
"Scared Dick's gonna get jealous?"
"Fuck you."
"That's the plan."
"What if I just want her?"
Kavinsky chuckled. "Man, that's the biggest lie you've ever told."
Ronan narrowed his eyes at him. The brunette stood next to him, biting her lip, trying to look sexy. Her hand found his, and Kavinsky didn't miss the grimace that flew across Ronan's features as their skin made contact. She led him over to the bed and pushed him down onto it before straddling him.
Kavinsky grabbed a joint from the bedside table. He didn't know whose it was, especially since he still didn't know whose room this was. He took a long drag as his eyes trailed back over to their entangled forms. She had managed to get both their shirts off, and her chest was pressed up against Ronan's. His hands gripped her waist, hard, creating dimples in the flesh there. Kavinsky felt a craving for something harder than weed.
Her hand reached over and began pumping Kavinsky. He was already hard, but she had almost nothing to do with it. Her lips moved down his neck and Ronan's eyes closed in response. Kavinsky studied his face, every line looking impossibly sharp, like he could slice someone in half with just the stroke of his jaw.
Ronan's eyes fluttered open as she sucked on what Kavinsky assumed was a particularly sensitive spot. He took note of the general area for future reference before taking another long, hard drag. He offered the joint to Ronan, who just looked at him with expressionless eyes.
Kavinsky thought about leaning forward, bridging the space between them, taking that bottom lip between his teeth. But he didn't, and he wasn't really sure why. Kavinsky wasn't the type to share, he was the type to take.
Ronan gripped the girl's head and pulled her back up so that he could kiss her again. He was rougher this time, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He had one palm gripping her chest, the other had disappeared between her legs. Her hand slipped away from Kavinsky's cock to claw down Ronan's back.
From his vantage point, Kavinsky could see then entirety of Ronan's tattoo. It was massive, spanning his whole back, and it moved with his muscles, making it look alive. It slithered and flowed across his skin. One moment it looked like a magnificent bird poking its head out of a flower patch, then a flaming jagged knife entangled in weeds, and finally a fire-breathing dragon with ornately coloured scales. He was captivated by the flames flowing across Ronan's back when they disappeared from his sight. The brunette had pushed him down so that he was lying on the bed. She began to kiss her way down his body, finally hesitating over his crotch. Lynch's eyes darkened as they watched her pull him out, then slowly, slowly place her mouth over him, as if she was expecting him to object. Truth be told, Kavinsky expected him to object. But he didn't. He just lay there and took it, looking fucking smug as shit.
He'd had enough of this fucking experiment.
"Move," Kavinsky growled as he put out the joint on the night table. He pushed the girl off and took her place on top of Ronan. Their lips collided before Ronan could protest, not that he would have, considering how enthusiastically he kissed back. His hands slid down Ronan's arms before gripping his wrists and drawing them up over his head. Ronan ground his hips up into Kavinsky, his dick rubbing against his ass.
Kavinsky smirked into the kiss. His hand wasted no time finding its way between Ronan's legs, gripping his cock, hard. His lips trailed down Ronan's neck, finding the spot he had watched the girl suck on earlier, and biting down, drawing a stifled gasp from Ronan's lips.
"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were jealous, K." He bit down harder, drawing blood, claiming Ronan Lynch as his.
Kavinsky left marks all over his body; on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, stomach, hips. Small purple splotches blossomed over his skin in a haphazard pattern. Now that was his definition of beauty.
Ronan's fingers tangled in Kavinsky's hair, gripping tightly, straining against his scalp. He pulled his head back up, crushing their lips together. Kavinsky felt Ronan's teeth graze his bottom lip before pulling back and laughing, mouth open, eyes closed, face completely relaxed. He didn't think he'd ever seen him laugh like that before.
Kavinsky pulled back. The girl was gone, though he couldn't remember hearing her leave.
Ronan reached down and pulled a small packet out of his pocket, a smirk twisting his features. Kavinsky swallowed hard before realizing it was cocaine, not a condom, although he didn't know which was more out of character for him.
He took the baggy dangling between his fingers.
"Don't fucking move, Lynch." He was perfectly still. Kavinsky couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He poured the coke in as straight a line down the center of his chest as he could manage, which wasn't very straight at all. When he brought his nose down, he caught the scent of mint body wash mixed with sweat before snorting the entire line, the tip of his nose raising goose bumps along Ronan's skin. When he finished, he saw Lynch watching him, eyes hooded and dark with wanting. He ran his tongue along the center of his chest. A mixture of saltiness from the sweat and bitterness from the cocaine filled his taste buds before his tongue grew numb.
When he pulled back, Ronan moved so that Kavinsky was on his back, and he was hovering over him, heat rolling off his body in waves. Kavinsky didn't have his shirt on anymore, though he couldn't remember having taken it off. Ronan kissed him again, hard, teeth crashing into each other. His lips moved along Kavinsky's jaw, down his neck. They were chapped and ticked as they scraped against his skin, but when he began to suck on hollow in his clavicle, Kavinsky couldn't help but moan.
"Fuck, Lynch." He felt a nip at his skin, before he moved lower, his lips wrapping around Kavinsky's pierced nipple. He felt his tongue graze over the skin, and his jeans grew impossibly tight in reaction. He twisted the piercing with his tongue in a way that made Kavinsky wish his tongue was working him elsewhere.
Ronan pulled back just enough to look up at him with a smirk playing on his lips.
"You should keep that."
"What? Princess Dick doesn't have any piercings?"
"Let's check and see." Kavinsky was momentarily confused, until Ronan's hands slipped lower, pulling his cock out from his underwear. He didn't have time to feel insulted that Ronan had referred to his cock as 'Princess Dick' because his mouth was hovering dangerously close to it. He closed his eyes in anticipation. He was close enough that he could feel his breath, hot and skipping, against the throbbing tip.
"Look at that, she fucking does." The words slipped out before he devoured him, taking him all in, the tiny silver ring hitting the back of his throat.
Kavinsky gripped the sheets and his eyes flew open. He was sweaty, his tank top clinging to his chest, his breathing labored, his boxers damp.
"Holy fuck, Lynch." He ran a shaky hand over his face. These dreams were getting out of hand.